Chapter 2

We were halfway across the bridge when my phone lit up with an unknown number.

"Is this Sorren Keats?"

"Speaking."

"Hi, this is Marisol from Northline Expeditions. I'm calling about the aurora package you booked—two guests, the glass-dome cabin outside Fairbanks, departing next Thursday."

Papers shuffled on her end.

"I still don't have Edward Marrick's signed waiver or a copy of his ID. The bush charter won't ticket him without it, and the lodge needs both names locked for registration. We're forty-eight hours from the cutoff."

The streetlights outside the cab window slid backward, one after another, and something hard settled in my throat.

The glass dome had been my surprise.

Three weeks of planning. There were only four of those cabins in the whole property, and I'd stayed up three nights straight refreshing the reservation page until a cancellation finally opened in the window where the lights were strongest.

When I'd sent Edward the itinerary—flights, transfers, the photo of the heated cabin with the sky pouring over it—he'd replied with seven words.

[Whatever you want. I'm good with it.]

I told myself he was slammed at work. So I handled everything. Deposits, gear rentals, the thermal layers I bought him in his size.

All he had to do was sign one form and photograph his driver's license.

I'd asked three times. Three times he said he'd have his assistant take care of it tomorrow.

"Ms. Keats? Are you still there?"

"I'm here." I closed my eyes. "Let me call him right—"

The screen flashed against my cheek. A text.

[Edward: Hey, before you go to bed. Thinking about Alaska.]

[Edward: Give my spot to Elowen.]

[Edward: Her breakup wrecked her. She needs to get out of the city and look at something beautiful.]

[Edward: You already did all the research anyway. Take her, show her a good time. I'll do a trip with you, just us, later this year.]

I read it twice. It didn't get better the second time.

"Marisol, I'll call you back."

I hung up, held the phone against my chest for a second, and pulled in a long breath.

Then I scrolled to Edward's name and hit call.

He picked up on the second ring. Bar noise behind him—glasses, bass, somebody laughing too loud.

"What now," he said, tired already. "Still mad?"

"The cabin has one bed, Edward. I booked it six months out. It's a two-person property."

"I know that." A pause, the sound of him stepping somewhere quieter. "That's why I'm stepping out. You two girls take it. Works perfectly."

"It was our anniversary trip."

"Sorren." He said my name the way you'd calm a dog.

"Be a grown-up about this for one second. Elowen hasn't slept in three weeks. Her doctor used the word depressive. She's barely holding it together."

His voice flattened. "The northern lights happen every year. They'll be there next winter. Don't be selfish about this."

Selfish.

I'd packed lunches for nine months to pay for that cabin.

I'd turned down the leadership track seminar in Denver because it fell in the same week and I couldn't afford both.

And somehow it came back to me as selfish.

Then I heard her, soft and close to the phone, the way you speak when you want to be overheard.

"Edward, does Sorren not want to go with me? It's okay. Really. I can just stay home. I don't want to be a problem for anybody."

A rustle—his palm over the receiver.

"Don't do that," he murmured to her. "Nobody said that."

Then he was back, brisk, decided.

"Okay. It's settled. Send her info over to the travel company tomorrow—date of birth, ID, whatever they need."

"Edward—"

The call ended.

I held the phone away from my ear and listened to the dead line for a second.

Then, I called Northline back.

"Ms. Keats. Hi. About Mr. Marrick's documents—"

"Don't wait on them." My voice came out level. "Change the booking. One guest."

She hesitated.

"Oh—okay. I just want to flag that the couples rate won't apply, so the per-person cost goes up significantly. And the lodge enforces a change fee this close to the date. Probably four hundred, maybe more."

"That's fine."

I watched the rain run sideways across the glass and felt something in my chest go very quiet. Like a room after the furniture's been carried out.

Keys clicked on her end.

"All right. Reservation updated. You're all set, Ms. Keats. Have a wonderful trip."